“Don’t shoot her!” Bill exclaimed when Latisha readied her rifle. Eyes glued to the pair, he watched Peri score on Michael before the man backed off, reassessing the threat and the bloody line she’d scratched into him in warning. Peri was darting glances into the night, looking for them, knowing Michael wouldn’t be here alone.
“I thought you said whoever resorted to drafting first was the poorer agent,” Jen said, and he waved his hand impatiently for her to shut up so he could hear them.
“That hop-skip was tactical, not escape based.”
Peri and Michael were circling, making Bill breathless. Watching her work had always been a pleasure. “You walk away. I walk away,” Peri said, voice small through Michael’s mic. “No one dies.”
Michael was grinning, an almost childlike anticipation on him as he misjudged his own worth. He wouldn’t understand until he was choking on his own blood, laughing probably, at the rare occurrence of being wrong, his ego greater than his true capabilities. But as Michael was truly gifted, he could be excused. Bill never should have brought him into the program, but drafters were so rare, even a psychotic one was useful.
“Right,” Michael said, giving away his intention a fateful second before attacking.
She was ready, blocking his front kick with her palm, blocking his straight punch with her scarf, then using it to tangle his next spin kick and yank him off balance. Pride warmed Bill. She was keeping her distance as she looked for another way out. She didn’t like to kill, avoided it when she could, called it a failure when she was forced to.
Still tangled, she gave him a shove and he fell on the ice, not rolling fast enough to entirely evade her jab to his thorax. It caught him on his cheek, and she spun to her feet before he could get a grip on her.
Michael had stopped laughing. His expression was ugly as he rose and felt his bruised face. Disappointment filled Bill, and he watched now only to see how she would bring him down. “Offer is still open,” Peri said even as she looked into the sharp black-and-white of a snowy night for the best way out.
“Michael, get back so we can dart her,” Bill said into the radio, not surprised when the man launched himself at her in a silent rage.
Like the artist she was, Peri pivoted, smacking the back of his knee in passing. Michael’s leg crumpled, and she caught his arm, jumping two seconds back when he got a grip on her.
Bill watched in a blue-sheened world as again she kicked his knee, this time shoving him into the lamppost. Time caught up, flashed red, and Michael hit the post with a dull thwap.
Stunned, Michael reeled, trying to stay upright. “You little bitch!” he shouted, and she straight-kicked him back to hit it again.
“Oooh, twice in a row,” Jen said in admiration.
Latisha watched, her finger far from the trigger. “Did she do what I think she did?”
Bill nodded. “The hop-skips?” he asked. “Yes. They both know they’re happening until after they’re done, and then they forget.”
“How can she not know?” Latisha asked in awe. “It’s beautiful!”
“It is, isn’t it.” He was watching through the goggles, slightly queasy at the tiny shifts in time. “It’s hard to notice little jumps in the heat of it all.”
And yet she kept doing it, making Michael more and more incensed as she chipped away at him. Bill knew he should stop it, but he didn’t, wondering whether Peri was enjoying the chance to use her skills as much as he was enjoying watching her work. He jerked, thinking it might be the end when she got a foot between his and she yanked him down. He’d seen that look in her before, and he could hardly breathe as they fell together, Peri following him into the street.
Michael was after her dropped knife, but she reached it first, eyes alight as she threw it at him even as she rose. Michael didn’t even notice it lodging under his knee, and motions graceful, she jumped at him, her foot landing squarely atop the hilt, jamming it deeper.
That he felt, and she fell to the salt-wet pavement as Michael gasped. Jen cried out a warning when he kicked at her like a playground bully. She rolled, jumping back half a second to roll sooner so he’d miss. In a silent rage, he followed her, but she’d found the broken dishes, and she raked a shard across his face when he got too close.
“My God. She’s cutting him to shreds!” Jen said.
It was over. “I’m calling it,” Bill said tightly, his pride in Peri eclipsed at the embarrassment that he had ever thought Michael might have had a chance. He was good, but Peri was the queen of last chances.
“You want me to dart her?” Latisha said, eyes wide. “He’s out of control.”
Grim, Bill shook his head. “Shoot him first.”
Jen scrambled for the back to make another dart for Peri, but Bill knew there was no time, and the half-dose dart Latisha had wouldn’t be enough even in the best of situations.
Motion fast, Latisha sighted down the scope. “This isn’t going to drop him.” Three heartbeats later, the puff of air shocked through Bill. Michael bellowed, furious as he pulled the dart out. Peri’s head came up. She was going to run. She had to.
Bill thumbed the radio on. “All backup,” he said calmly. “Bring her in.”
“You son of a bitch!” Michael exclaimed, and Peri leapt for the darkness. Four men were tight behind her. “She’s mine. Mine!” Michael shouted. He was beginning to stagger, but he swung at the man trying to drag him away, and they both sprawled into the slushy gutter.
It was three to Peri’s one now, and as Latisha looked for an opening, Peri sent the most eager back with a front kick, spinning to hit the second with a crescent kick. He stumbled, going down, but the first had recovered and grabbed her about the waist from behind.
“That was dumb,” Latisha said as Peri broke her attacker’s nose with her head, then probably a rib when she threw him over her shoulder to hit the curb. Red splattered fantastically across the snow.
“Get Michael down!” Bill shouted into the radio when the idiot staggered up and pulled a man off Peri. Recovered, she did a fast palm strike, hitting Michael’s nose. Disgusted, Bill threw the radio at the dash as Michael fell back in the shrubbery, blind from the tears and blood. “Shoot her, too,” he demanded as he reached for the door and got out. “I want her down. Now!”
“I thought you said whoever resorted to drafting first was the poorer agent,” Jen said, and he waved his hand impatiently for her to shut up so he could hear them.
“That hop-skip was tactical, not escape based.”
Peri and Michael were circling, making Bill breathless. Watching her work had always been a pleasure. “You walk away. I walk away,” Peri said, voice small through Michael’s mic. “No one dies.”
Michael was grinning, an almost childlike anticipation on him as he misjudged his own worth. He wouldn’t understand until he was choking on his own blood, laughing probably, at the rare occurrence of being wrong, his ego greater than his true capabilities. But as Michael was truly gifted, he could be excused. Bill never should have brought him into the program, but drafters were so rare, even a psychotic one was useful.
“Right,” Michael said, giving away his intention a fateful second before attacking.
She was ready, blocking his front kick with her palm, blocking his straight punch with her scarf, then using it to tangle his next spin kick and yank him off balance. Pride warmed Bill. She was keeping her distance as she looked for another way out. She didn’t like to kill, avoided it when she could, called it a failure when she was forced to.
Still tangled, she gave him a shove and he fell on the ice, not rolling fast enough to entirely evade her jab to his thorax. It caught him on his cheek, and she spun to her feet before he could get a grip on her.
Michael had stopped laughing. His expression was ugly as he rose and felt his bruised face. Disappointment filled Bill, and he watched now only to see how she would bring him down. “Offer is still open,” Peri said even as she looked into the sharp black-and-white of a snowy night for the best way out.
“Michael, get back so we can dart her,” Bill said into the radio, not surprised when the man launched himself at her in a silent rage.
Like the artist she was, Peri pivoted, smacking the back of his knee in passing. Michael’s leg crumpled, and she caught his arm, jumping two seconds back when he got a grip on her.
Bill watched in a blue-sheened world as again she kicked his knee, this time shoving him into the lamppost. Time caught up, flashed red, and Michael hit the post with a dull thwap.
Stunned, Michael reeled, trying to stay upright. “You little bitch!” he shouted, and she straight-kicked him back to hit it again.
“Oooh, twice in a row,” Jen said in admiration.
Latisha watched, her finger far from the trigger. “Did she do what I think she did?”
Bill nodded. “The hop-skips?” he asked. “Yes. They both know they’re happening until after they’re done, and then they forget.”
“How can she not know?” Latisha asked in awe. “It’s beautiful!”
“It is, isn’t it.” He was watching through the goggles, slightly queasy at the tiny shifts in time. “It’s hard to notice little jumps in the heat of it all.”
And yet she kept doing it, making Michael more and more incensed as she chipped away at him. Bill knew he should stop it, but he didn’t, wondering whether Peri was enjoying the chance to use her skills as much as he was enjoying watching her work. He jerked, thinking it might be the end when she got a foot between his and she yanked him down. He’d seen that look in her before, and he could hardly breathe as they fell together, Peri following him into the street.
Michael was after her dropped knife, but she reached it first, eyes alight as she threw it at him even as she rose. Michael didn’t even notice it lodging under his knee, and motions graceful, she jumped at him, her foot landing squarely atop the hilt, jamming it deeper.
That he felt, and she fell to the salt-wet pavement as Michael gasped. Jen cried out a warning when he kicked at her like a playground bully. She rolled, jumping back half a second to roll sooner so he’d miss. In a silent rage, he followed her, but she’d found the broken dishes, and she raked a shard across his face when he got too close.
“My God. She’s cutting him to shreds!” Jen said.
It was over. “I’m calling it,” Bill said tightly, his pride in Peri eclipsed at the embarrassment that he had ever thought Michael might have had a chance. He was good, but Peri was the queen of last chances.
“You want me to dart her?” Latisha said, eyes wide. “He’s out of control.”
Grim, Bill shook his head. “Shoot him first.”
Jen scrambled for the back to make another dart for Peri, but Bill knew there was no time, and the half-dose dart Latisha had wouldn’t be enough even in the best of situations.
Motion fast, Latisha sighted down the scope. “This isn’t going to drop him.” Three heartbeats later, the puff of air shocked through Bill. Michael bellowed, furious as he pulled the dart out. Peri’s head came up. She was going to run. She had to.
Bill thumbed the radio on. “All backup,” he said calmly. “Bring her in.”
“You son of a bitch!” Michael exclaimed, and Peri leapt for the darkness. Four men were tight behind her. “She’s mine. Mine!” Michael shouted. He was beginning to stagger, but he swung at the man trying to drag him away, and they both sprawled into the slushy gutter.
It was three to Peri’s one now, and as Latisha looked for an opening, Peri sent the most eager back with a front kick, spinning to hit the second with a crescent kick. He stumbled, going down, but the first had recovered and grabbed her about the waist from behind.
“That was dumb,” Latisha said as Peri broke her attacker’s nose with her head, then probably a rib when she threw him over her shoulder to hit the curb. Red splattered fantastically across the snow.
“Get Michael down!” Bill shouted into the radio when the idiot staggered up and pulled a man off Peri. Recovered, she did a fast palm strike, hitting Michael’s nose. Disgusted, Bill threw the radio at the dash as Michael fell back in the shrubbery, blind from the tears and blood. “Shoot her, too,” he demanded as he reached for the door and got out. “I want her down. Now!”
